morning pages

September 1, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

uncertainty
turned excitement
turned apprehension
turned…who knows

at least i’m still in
‘go with the flow’
mode.

~~~

the rain pouring
feels apocalyptic
though no such apocalypse has yet to take hold onto a whole nation
just whole communities,
whole cities,
whole states…
[or are we simply feeling immune
because our whole country
is so damn huge?]

~~~

quick and dirty
morning poems
so i have time
to get quick clean
before heading out
not away from the storm
but deeper into
(solely for the sake
of dogs
and nature
and family)

August 30, 2021

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back in the habit
back on board
back inside this bandwagon
back to reality
back to
back to
back to

except

about to travel
about to explore
about to visit
about to have new experiences
about to
about to about to about to
about to

but for now
back to regularly scheduled/written/done/posted
morning page poems
[i hope we have some moments to ourselves
to morning page it up
there]

August 20, 2021

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sitting down
to write my morning pages
my morning poems
my morning whatevers
and i can’t think of anything to say
(or at least, anything i want to put into writing
anything i want down on the page and out in the world
anything that i can actually analyze enough to translate into words)

and i think i should tell myself that
that’s ok sometimes.

August 16, 2021

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construction
on the road
right out our window
and the dog is so scared
but so brave
and the cat couldn’t find half a fuck to give
and for me it just reminds me how lucky we are
to be able to afford a garage
inside which we stash our car
and to Kip
it just reminds them
about the last time there was construction
on the road
right out our window
and how they had to carry the dog
a block up and down
in order to get her to our car
in order to get her to the emergency vet
in order for her to act completely fine in front of the vet
and then have her come back again the following day
to be told exactly what Kip expected to be told.

but as for today
i think about tow trucks,
and reversing down roads,
and loud buzzing instead of beeping,
and jackhammers and how the dog will act at lunch when i have to take her out by myself,
and whether or not i’ll be able to/want to nap later today
and when i’ll feel fully rested again
(and how the last time i said that, i feel like i didn’t know what actual, persistent exhaustion was)
and how exhaustion in itself is probably very subjective

and at least we have this playlist
of loud horns
and louder drums
and apparently spotify calls it Nu Funk
but we usually just label it after our favorite bands of the genre
(perhaps the originators of the genre?)
Moon Hooch
and
Too Many Zooz

and i know Too Many Zooz used to perform in subway stations
in NYC
before we lived here
before there was a global pandemic
before
before before
before before before
(is the new labeling of time
going to include BC
Before Covid?
that would make sense
if we did anything to change
the capitalist hellscape
that preceded this global panini
but instead,
we just continued more of the same)

but we are in late-stage capitalism
so maybe we can actualize industrial collapse
and rebuild something kind and caring
from the ashes
of this atrocity
that is the American experiment
that i’d say worked really well for those it was intended for
(white upper/middle class, cis, straight, able-bodied men,
particularly those of monotheistic religious extremes)
and not at all
for literally everyone else.

ah, so this is what it’s like
to contemplate the morning
in Morning Pages Poetry
to follow each thread of thought
until it lets out into a new concept
a new process
a new subject matter to contemplate,
and
i suppose
this *might* be what they mean
when they say
follow the dopamine
?

August 8, 2021

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finding the perfect music station
is an art
(one i’m not nearly as familiar with
as my spouse)
and so when i’m doing my morning pages/poems
without them
(because sleep is a necessity)
and have to find some morning tunes
on my own
i never land on
what i initially think i’ll land on…

at least there’s coffee.

~~~

so hungry
but i’m not used to eating while writing
i eat and suddenly i want
passive entertainment
it seems this old dog needs to learn a couple new tricks

~~~

if i leave
and come back
will i keep the thread of morning poetry?

~~~

fed,
caffeinated,
[not yet watered],
and i feel so much better able to
really get into these here morning page poems

is this what i *should* be doing each morning?
instead of simply sipping coffee
and waiting until after i write to eat my breakfast?

or is this simply a daily thing
that changes around
and adjusts
as my own outlook
and mood
and level of tiredness
adjusts
day
by
day
by
day
?

~~~

i mean, if i’m going to be writing a million small poems
(and by a million, let’s be honest and say probably six)
might as well just
truly
go for it.

~~~

the nerves are starting to settle in
about class later on today
(this is why i enjoyed having a circus class prior to acting class
yes, i never got to nap,
but i also never spent half the day worrying about/obsessing over my performance)

i like how our teacher sets up the class
you perform, and then she asks what goals you had for that particular scene or monologue
and this week i’m simply hoping to continue the work
that suddenly broke free two weeks ago.
i want to breathe into the monologue,
i want to be in the moment,
and i want to use my own self-loathing
to create art
instead of beating myself down all the time.

and yes, the ultimate goal is health
and possibly, someday, not constantly feeling like the most worthless hunk of flesh on the planet,
but while that’s what it’s like in my brain,
might as well be honest
and use it to connect with this character i’ve been [not so secretly] wanting to play for ages,
and maybe if i can connect while i’m in the throes of
not-so-great mental health
maybe that means i can find my way in
when i am in a healthier mental state
remember the physical sensations
without being too harsh…

maybe?

but today isn’t about how to get there down the road
that’s not the goal today;
it’s to be in the present
to breathe into the moment
to know that i have all this inside me
and relax
and trust
and simply let myself shine through.

July 31, 2021

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thirty days have september,
april,
june,
and november
all the rest have thirty-one
except february which completely fucks us up and every four years gets even a little bit more complicated because time is a mortal construction and probably not as linear as people make it out to be…

i see my friends
open themselves up to the universe
to give and receive and the universe complies
sending platonic connections from years and years past,
sheltering under iridescent wingspans
and holding safe a space for baby queers;
we are the ancestors we wish we’d had
(and we do have those ancestors,
they just may not be blood)

the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb
isn’t it great how the actual saying is saying the opposite of what everyone who says it thinks they are saying?
there are a lot of things like that in this world, aren’t there?
(and do we even need to live our lives by sayings made up by humans long since dead?)

i’m still finding my way
slowly opening myself up to the universe,
trying not to ask it too greedily,
as i’m still scared it’s not real,
i’m too much of an atheist/agnostic to trust in anything outside of myself
(but, one might point out, the universe could simply be a part of ourselves that is unknown,)
and we are far more connected to one another than we think we are,
so maybe those connections are the universe
and each other are the spiritual guides,
but all of these are very ‘what if’
very potential answers
but not definites,
and it is too early for this kind of contemplation to make 100% sense
(and i was definitely up too early to be too comprehensible to others)
so we can just write this
and post it
and throw it out into the universe
and know that our place in it is constantly changing
and at times you need the guidance
and at others you are the guide
and it constantly changes
and change is good
scary
but good.

July 25, 2021

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for so long
i was the kind of person
who woke up every morning
and stretched for fifteen minutes.

i think i needed it, at that time,
so much loss and change and variability,
and i had a goal and i achieved it;
within the year (maybe within six months)
i could:
touch my toes,
drop into full splits,
left, right, and center,
and i could arch my back
backwards
and touch the floor on the other side.

and yes, i was younger
and limberer
(though i certainly didn’t feel that way
when i started)

but after high school,
i entered college
with roommates
and depression
and a year away
and figuring out my life
and another college
and too many classes/assignments/rehearsals
to fit in 24 hours,
and the diligence
of stretching every morning
slipped away…

and then meeting my to-be spouse
and graduation
living/moving around the midwest
Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Madison,
eventually ending up in our own home
and still i didn’t have a morning routine
akin to that which helped me through high school
nothing for my body
nothing for my mind
nothing for my soul
(but i was fulfilled, body, mind, and soul, in other ways;
discovering circus,
meeting my people,
having my kip with me through it all).

and when we moved to New York,
the spouse and i created a new tradition,
a new morning routine,
to make our lives a little more centered
as we entered our busy days.

and that habit ebbed and flowed,
adjusting for our own needs,
adjusting for the start of a global pandemic,
adjusting for the stressors and fears that accompany
life
in a ‘new normal’
kind of situation,
and we’ve been at this
morning pages
for a year and a half now,
and the poetry version
i’ve kept going
for a little over
one hundred days

and this has been paramount
to my emotional, intellectual, and spiritual health,
i’ve felt more connected to my own thoughts
(or awareness that i’m not)
for the first time since i was a small child

but my body still begs for consistency
and my muscle flexibility
hasn’t been touched in weeks
and there’s no habit i have that helps…

but that’s how i started
a decade and a half ago,
a feeling of need,
of desire,
of a goal i wanted to accomplish,
and i set my mind to do it
so i did.

and i know it won’t be as quick
(and i have more knowledge now
of all bodies and their different needs)
so maybe
now
i can find a time
an activity
a physically centering habit
to help me as we adjust
for new changes,
healthier spaces,
and connect body/mind/spirit
in one.

July 19, 2021

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the morning
early morning
just woken up morning
was spent crafting
a thought
a poem
a contemplation
about acting
about anxiety
about newfound epiphanies in my head

but the regular
morning pages
morning poems
morning contemplation
meditation
time
was spent arranging
and planning
and father-talking

which is all okay
but suffice it to say
i’m a little off my poetry game
now.

July 14, 2021

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once again
my frantic creativity
is failing me
this morning page time
and i know i have things i wanted to write about
and i know i have things i needed to write about
and i know i have things i could be writing about

but the sky feels grey, not blue
and the world seems tipped slightly askew
and i can’t conceive of how long this off-ness will last
(nor if it’s truly a case of of perception,
or if it could simply be a time of transition
asleep to awake
un-caffeinated to caffeinated
cat-lap-less to cat-lap-full
[and let me tell you, those claws in my legs sure helped me wake a little more])

so i suppose i’ll keep writing.
hoping things start making more sense,
hoping the coffee soaks its way to my veins,
pet this cat until my fingers find more words to write
(and forgive her when her affectionate head bumps a few letters out of place)

because this is my life;
i made it.
mine.